


Night Devine: A Wammy Christmas Eve Story

by Asraella



Series: A Wammy Christmas Eve [2]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cemetery, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Churches & Cathedrals, Gen, Mild Language, Wammy House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asraella/pseuds/Asraella
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and the kids at Wammy's House are preparing for the festivities, but L & Mello have other things to do before they can enjoy the holiday.
Relationships: L & Watari | Quillsh Wammy, Matt | Mail Jeevas & Mello | Mihael Keehl, Matt | Mail Jeevas & Near | Nate River
Series: A Wammy Christmas Eve [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072799
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Night Devine: A Wammy Christmas Eve Story

Wammy’s House was a buzz with activity. The scent of nutmeg and clove drifted throughout the halls, pine needles littering the hardwood floors as the children busily prepared for the upcoming festivities. Some were busy making ornaments to trim the Christmas tree, bickering over the best placement to showcase the ornaments each had made. Others busily constructed gingerbread houses and decorated the cutouts of little cookie people to inhabit the homes they built from sugar and spice.

“Near, can I borrow the white icing?” Linda’s smile made his pale cheeks just a little rosy as he handed the tube of frosting to her.

“Thanks! You’re the best!” She scrunched her nose at him in appreciation. “Are you sure you don’t want to come sit with us?”

“No thank you.” He declined her offer, never raising his eyes to meet hers.

“Alright. If you change your mind you’re always welcome.” Her smile softened as she skipped away to rejoin her friends.

Near quietly returned his attention to the five gingerbread men he had been meticulously crafting. Although he liked Linda’s attention, he didn’t mind being alone and he quite enjoyed having a table all to himself, but his merry solitude came to an abrupt end when someone was suddenly sitting next to him.

“Got yourself a girlfriend there, buddy? I could get you some mistletoe.” Matt chuckled, bumping the table as he slid into the chair closest to Near, knocking over a jar of silver and gold sprinkles. “Shit. Sorry. It didn’t mess anything up did it?” With a gloved hand, he quickly swept the spill into his hand, popping the sparkling treat into his mouth.

“No and no.” Near frowned at his well-intentioned though unwanted companion. “Please be more careful next time.”

Matt ignored his warning, licking the remaining sugar from his hand. “What are you making?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Can I see it?” Matt leaned over, peering at Near’s work.

Near hunched over his creation in progress, wrapping his arms in a circle the way one hides their test answers. “No, you may not.”

“Okay, Okay.” Matt slumped back in his seat. “I won’t look. Is it for Linda?”

Near drew a breath deep into his lungs “Would you--”

Near’s words were halted as both boys’ eyes followed the determined figured forcing his way through the clutter of kids, glare fixed forward, a scowl carved deeply into his handsome features.

“Where’s Mello going?” Near inquired innocently.

“Couldn’t tell you.” Frowning, Matt fiddled with the lighter in his pocket, never taking his eyes from Mello as the door slammed behind him. “I need a smoke. Catch you later.”

* * *

The blond strode with defiance right out the front door, pulling his hood up to ward off the frigid night air. Flurries swirled around him, snowflakes dusting his shoulders in unique beauty as he headed down the street. Turning the corner, a silhouette caught his eye, hunched shoulders and spikey locks hastened from the back door of the orphanage. There was no doubt in Mello’s mind to the identity of the shadowy figure, and though the features were obscured by distance and the night, he was sure they shared a look before the other vanished into the darkness.

* * *

Clouds drifted over the moon hanging high in the sky, casting a glow that made the streetlights unnecessary. It wasn’t a far walk from the train station to the cemetery. Lines of gravestones, some crooked with time and neglect, stood lonely beneath the Christmas sky. Wreaths woven with garland and bulbs sat upon the graves of passed on loved ones, gone from this world but not out of the hearts of their families, but for L, all he could remember was the smell of sugar cookies filled with strawberry jam, the haze of white twinkle lights on a spruce and his mother lifting him to get his stocking from the mantel on Christmas morning. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had left and he cultivated that memory to last him a lifetime.

The frozen grass crunched beneath L’s untied sneakers, every plodding step bringing him closer to the granite stones that stood in remembrance of his parents, bereft of any adornment to prove that they too were once loved, a failure on L’s part to remember such circumstance was customary.

He crouched down in front of all that was left of them, brushing the snow that obscured the epitaphs whose author was unknown to him. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, brightening his pale skin and glum expression. The pain of losing them felt fresh if he thought about them too hard, but time had quelled the anger and confusion he couldn’t understand as a child and he could think of the ghosts of his family with fondness, knowing the memory of them was more fiction than fact. His thoughts may have been the fairytales an orphan told to make them feel less alone, but nonetheless they were his to keep.

“It’s been over a decade,” he spoke aloud in melodious and haunting tones, alone among the icy graves. “I’m ashamed to admit I can’t recall what Christmas was like with you both. Regardless of that fact, I am here with you now. It’s the only gift I am capable of giving you.”

* * *

Mello treaded up the slate walkway, lit only by the singular streetlamp lighting the way. The church, modest in its glory, was tucked into the depths of Winchester. Stone and stained-glass, brilliant in its archaic beauty, struck awe into the young man as he made his way through the arched entrance. The creaking door that would have alerted the others to the late arrival went unnoticed, drowned out by the voices of the congregation, already in the middle of a cacophonous rendition of “Angels We Have Heard on High”.

Mello slid into a pew in the back, greeted with a kind smile from the older couple tucked beside him, singing surprisingly in key and standing out amidst those surrounding them. He returned the gesture out of habit before he opened the hymnal, though he knew they words by heart, a camouflage to help him blend in among the others.

The song came to its uneven close, giving way to the bustle and murmur of the church-goers settling into their seats with the usual social expectations. The man next to Mello leaned closer to him, taking an interest in the leather clad young man.

“Are you here with your family, son?”

Mello shot him a scowl that softened when he saw the concern on the man’s face. Mello had the all the airs of a runaway and Christmas Eve was no time to be so young and on your own.

“No.” It was a simple answer given with no explanation or ceremony, followed by him casting his eyes to the floor as he clutched the rosary dangling from his neck, a hint of shame on his face.

“It’s alright. We’re glad to have you sitting with us.” He extended his hand, a gesture of kindness and good faith towards the unfamiliar face among the congregation.

With a nod, Mello took his hand and shook it firmly, a maturity in his eyes far beyond his years. “Glad to be here.”

* * *

Flurries began to fall from the once vivid night sky. Each footprint leading to L’s whereabouts had started fade thanks to the glistening flakes coating the Earth’s icy surface, but it wasn’t enough to hide him from someone who knew him well.

A gloved hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. L looked up to be met with the kind, wrinkled eyes of Watari. “Are you alright my boy?”

L returned his stare to the gravestones, shimmering beneath the frost that had started to form on their surfaces. “Do you think they know I was here?”

It was the same question every year since L first asked to visit their graves when he was a mere child, and every year Watari gave him the same unverified answer, though it was the time of year for miracles and it felt more like truth than faith.

He gently squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, L. I believe they do.”

L gave a silent nod and traced his finger along the engraving of the name “Lawliet” on his father’s tomb.

* * *

Candles on the alter flickered, waving to the draft that gusted through when the door opened, the scent of Frankincense and Myrrh becoming more sacred as it mixed with the night air. The sermon had come to its conclusion and the congregation was lining up to take communion when Mello felt a shoulder bump against his.

“I knew you’d be here.” Matt smirked at him, the smell of damp coldness clinging to his clothes, his goggles fogging in the warmth of the church. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go to Mass? I would have come with you.”

Rising from his seat, he joined the others waiting to consume the body and blood of their savior, Matt standing right by his side. “What are you doing? You don’t even believe in this stuff.”

“Yeah, but I believe in you,” Matt snickered. “Besides, I could use a snack.”

Mello grinned, an amused snuff pushing out his words. “How the fu-…” He stopped short of the obscenity, not wanting to sully such a holy occasion. “How did you get here? Did you hotwire Roger’s car again?”

“Nope, took his keys this time.”

“At least we don’t have to take the bus back.”

* * *

“If you got to be in an orphanage, having a room on the ground floor is the best case scenario.” Mello slithered through the window of the room he shared with his partner in crime.

Matt chuckled, flipping over the sill and landing on the floor with all the grace of a cat burglar. “It’s almost like Roger wants us to sneak out.”

“Yeah, and take his car.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault he leaves his keys locked in the top drawer of his desk behind the paper clips and under the post it notes. He’s practically telling me to go for a ride.”

The grandfather clock that stood to the right of the foyer began to chime, its low, melodious song marking the hour caught Mello’s attention, reminding him they returned just in the nick of time.

“We better get to the study room. Roger said successors are supposed to meet there at midnight and I don’t want that little snitch to come looking for us because you know he will.”

Matt didn’t have the heart to tell Mello he intended on quitting the program. Why spoil the holiday when the news could easily wait until the New Year. “Yeah, let’s go.”

* * *

Near stood blank-faced as he carefully shoved the gingerbread replica of Wammy’s House into the middle of the table, his handwork a delicious centerpiece of holiday cheer.

“What are we doing here, Roger? Shouldn’t we be in bed or Santa won’t come?” Mello scoffed as he flopped down in one of the empty chairs, tipping his head quizzically at Near’s handiwork. “What’s that?”

“It’s a gift. I made it for all of us.”

The corner of Mello’s mouth turned into a sneer, raising one eyebrow at this rival. “You include yourself your gift? Figures.”

“You made these?” Matt leaned across the table and picked up a gingerbread boy and examined the sugary details. Lines of red and black icing created the shirt and large gold nonpareils made perfect goggles on the cookie, leaving no question that it was made to represent Matt. “They’re amazing.”

“Thank you.” Near’s modest reply held pride in it, not often the recipient of praise from either of his opponents.

“Quite impressive.” The voice caught them all off-guard. It was a voice they had each heard before on rare occasions, but it was even rarer to hear it without the robotic distortion they had come to associate with the young man it belonged to. The three turned their attention to the direction of the even tones.

“No shit! You came back for Christmas!” Matt grinned, knowing how happy this new arrival would make Mello.

“L!” Leaping from his chair, Mello charged at the detective, still hunched in the doorway when the full impact of his successor crashed into him. “How the hell have you been?”

“I’m well, thank you.” He patted Mello softly between the shoulder blades as he tried to walk into the room, the boy still clutching to his white long-sleeved shirt. “I see you’ve been busy Near. It’s a fine gingerbread house.”

“It’s a gingerbread orphanage to be exact.”

“Of course.” A tiny smile invaded his expression as he pressed his thumb to his bottom lip. “It looks delicious. It is for consumption, correct?” The detective couldn’t fight his sweet tooth, and he couldn’t help but want to devour the artistic confection.

“Yes. Roger has already taken a photograph of it and the gingerbread family can be eaten as soon as Quillish returns with drinking cocoa.”

“A family?” Mello scrunched his brow in scrutiny. “You think of us as a family?”

“I do think that.” Near marched the cookie in white frosting pajamas along the edge of the table.

“A family is just people that are there for each other.” Matt’s eyes bounced from each person surrounding him, his smile growing at the realization.

“A very astute conclusion, Mail.” Watari appeared with a tray of cocoa, a different hand-painted reindeer adorning each mug. “It’s always nice to know there are others you can rely on.”

“Damn right it is.” Mello stared at Matt with gratitude in his eyes.

L softly padded up to Watari, peeking over his shoulder as he watched him scoop a dollop of whipped cream on top of each cup. “And greatly appreciated.”


End file.
